I didn't think.
I moved.
The book was still in my hands when my body decided before my mind could catch up. The door flew open, the bell shrieked overhead, and cold air hit my lungs so hard it felt like I'd been underwater.
I ran.
Not because I understood what was happening.
Because something deeper than thought—something older—knew that if I stopped, I wouldn't get another chance to move.
The street swallowed me immediately.
Cars rolled past. People talked. Footsteps echoed against pavement. The city kept moving like nothing behind me mattered.
I pushed through the crowd, brushing shoulders, bumping into strangers as I forced my way forward.
Except—
no one reacted.
Not a glance. Not a complaint. Not even that brief flicker of irritation people give when you invade their space.
I nearly collided with a woman holding a cup of coffee. I twisted to avoid her, expecting at least a startled step back—
She walked straight through the space I had just occupied.
Like I hadn't been there.
I slowed without meaning to.
A man's elbow clipped my shoulder—or should have. He didn't feel it. Didn't flinch. Didn't even turn his head.
A cold weight dropped into my stomach.
No.
That wasn't possible.
I stepped directly into someone's path.
A teenager walked forward, eyes locked on their phone—
—and passed through me like I was smoke.
My breath caught in my throat.
The world didn't stutter. Didn't glitch. Didn't even hesitate.
It just kept going.
Around me.
Through me.
I looked down